


Diplomatic Crisis

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Steve gets drunk, and get in a pickle, they all get drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:52:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out, Steve Rogers CAN get drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diplomatic Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Dunicha.  
> I wrote this a while ago, inspired by [this](http://adamantsteve.tumblr.com/post/47657292024), but I forgot to post it.  
> I have been to Ottawa once but barely remember it so this might be crazily incorrect in some way.

 

 

It isn't unusual to see Clint Barton sitting outside Nick Fury's office like a sullen teen, in fact it's pretty common to see the shape of his hunched shoulders there, waiting to get reamed out by his boss. It's not even all that strange to see Natasha Romanov sitting there beside him, 'The Terrible Twins' having bitten off something bigger than they could chew once again.

 

It also isn't that surprising to see Phil Coulson there, though he doesn't usually look as sullen as the other two, waiting for a regular meeting rather than any sort of disciplinary talk. But today here he sits, shoulders as low as Clint and Natasha's, for all the world looking like a naughty boy sitting outside the principal's office.

 

The one person it is a shock to see sitting outside Director Fury's office, in a neat line but a head taller than the rest, is Steve Rogers.

 

Nick Fury has always been one for the dramatic entrance, and the three regulars have come to know the sound of the heavy door's automatic opening swish at the push of a button on Nick's desk. But Steve's never seen it before and looks momentarily terrified when his head shoots up to see the door open but no one standing there.

 

"It's just a button," mutters Clint as they all get up and trudge inside.

 

A row of three chairs sit infront of the desk. with Fury steepling his fingers behind it. Natasha, Clint and Steve take them while Phil stands behind, the errant father of three unruly children.

 

"So," begins Nick. "You destroyed Ottawa."

 

"Yes, sir," Phil replies, hands behind his back and looking suitably contrite.

 

An image flickers into life on the screen behind Nick, of Clint and Steve on the side of the Peace Tower like tiny King Kongs, climbing up it dragging an American flag behind them. Steve crumples to hold his head in his hands and Clint stifles a snigger that turns into a pained gasp when Natasha jabs him in the ribs.

 

"Where were you when this was happening, Coulson?"

 

Phil looks at the back of his agents' heads. "In the bar, sir."

 

"In the bar," Nick repeats.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"And you, Romanov?"

 

Natasha's a little more stoic, better than the three of them at hiding her embarrassment. "I was taking pictures, sir."

 

Nick sighs. "Of course." Then he nods at Steve. "Rogers. The rest of this rabble, even Coulson-" he fixes a short glare at Phil "-I can see doing something this stupid. You, I find it harder to believe. What were you thinking?"

 

Steve takes a deep breath. "Well, sir. We went to the ambassador's dinner, achieved our mission objectives-" Nick nods, "-and then afterwards, uh..."

 

Phil interrupts, "we went to a bar."

 

Fury silences him with another glare and Steve continues. "We went to a bar. And uh. In my defence I thought alcohol couldn't affect me anymore."

 

"But you decided that Ottawa was the place to test that theory out."

 

"Leave him alone, sir. It was us," Clint interjects. "Me and Nat."

 

Nick crosses his arms and waits for him to continue.

 

"We were doing shots, the three of us, and then-"

 

"It was fine until they started lighting shots of everclear on fire and making me take them. That's when shit-"

 

Four sets of eyebrows are raised at Steve Rogers cursing, and he quickly amends it to, "stuff. That's when.... stuff happened."

 

Nick opens the file on his desk to the report as the screen behind him plays security footage of the four of them swaying down the street, Steve sitting on top of a car, Clint rubbing his ass on a street sign, then a series of still images of three of them sneaking into the parliamentary complex and scaling the tower before Phil arrives carrying a crate of bottles of alcohol with a stuffed moose head balanced atop it.

 

"Then what happened?"

 

"Well, we thought it would be... funny... to-" Steve sighs in shame. "put the American flag on top of the tower." He rushes to add: "We weren't going to take the other one down! We were just going to add ours."

 

"And what exactly gave you this idea?"

 

"Sir, it was me," Phil admits.

 

"You?"

 

"It was... a... it was akin to something I did in college."

 

"College, of course."

 

"It was meant to be in celebration of... of our two nations coming together so harmoniously." He rushes the words out in shame. "We thought at the time that it was a logical course of action."

 

The four wait in stony silence and wait for Fury to speak.

 

"So. You got Captain America drunk and then you tried to desecrate a national monument because it seemed logical."

 

"We uh. We had drunk a lot."

 

"A lot," echoes Clint. Even Natasha nods slightly.

 

Phil clasps his hands together behind his back. "I thought we had all learned our lesson in Budapest. Evidently not."

 

"Evidently," Fury repeats.

 

"Sir, if I may, it really wasn't Steve's fault. We three were the ones who gave him the alcohol, and I was meant to be in charge of the operation. I should never have let it get so out of control."

 

Clint interrupts. "Naw man, it was me, I said we should go up the tower."

 

Natasha adds, "I discovered that fire apparently stops the serum from blocking the alcohol."

 

Steve frowns. "I drank it."

 

Phil nods at it all and again Nick lets them stew.

 

"You're all idiots," he proclaims. "Most of it's been covered up and somehow these beautiful heirloom portraits," the picture behind him fades into the four of them, redfaced and obviously drunk in a bar full of redfaced drunk people, grinning and lifting flaming shotglasses, "didn't get out. The people who were there have been convinced via various means that the three of you were incredibly talented cosplayers. However. You-" he hands a thin file to Steve, "-have to apologise to the Prime Minister of Canada. In person."

 

"What about the rest of us?" Clint asks.

 

"Latrine duty, one month."

 

Natasha gasps the loudest at that proclamation, but none of them challenge it.

 

"You can go," Nick tells them. They all begin to shuffle back out of the office, though they freeze when he continues. "By the way? The cost of repairing those hotel beds you destroyed is coming out of your paychecks.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *edited to change President to Prime Minister. Sorry!*


End file.
